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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29688468">Seventy Seven</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/julienwrites/pseuds/julienwrites'>julienwrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Must Love Dogs [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chicago Fire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Appendicitis, Beau Casey, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Matt's Childhood, Mentions of Med Characters, Sickfic, mentions of vomiting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:55:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29688468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/julienwrites/pseuds/julienwrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Captain? Are you okay?” Kidds voice cuts through the pain. All Matt can do is let out a breathy whine, curling into himself as much as physically possible, body bent in half. The pain intensifies, though Matt’s not sure how, and he stumbles, Kidd just barely managing to hold him upright. “Need some help here! <i>Now!!</i>” </p>
<p>Chaos erupts. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Stella Kidd/Kelly Severide, Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Must Love Dogs [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Seventy Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>We've made it to the third installment of MLD. I've been working on this fic for a stupid long time, got to 8k, then completely trashed it and rewrote it. Not sure why a lot of my fics mention vomiting, I hate it in general, so I apologize for that. As always, while it does mention it, I tried to keep it as least-graphic as possible. </p>
<p>I am working on writing a few smaller fics to go into this series, little 'one shots' if you will, so if you have any requests, you're welcome to leave them here, or send them to me on my tumblr or instagram, both @roberttchase :) </p>
<p>Enjoy and let me know how you feel about it. I'm terrible about replying to comments but please know I read every single one and they all make me smile so much! I'm hoping to write out a timeline for everything once I get a few more fics posted. Until next time! </p>
<p>Julien</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They’re on the couch watching House Hunters when Matt notices his stomach is hurting. It’s not bad, almost unnoticeable, but he sucks in a deep breath and as his stomach expands with his chest, an odd, aching sort of pain throbs dully around his belly button. It doesn’t last long, but it gets his attention, making his brow furrow a bit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Weird</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He doesn’t usually get stomach aches, never has. Shifting, he keeps an arm around Sylvie and brings her closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beau’s laying on his little heating pad made specifically for dogs, the one that Severide bought him as a one year birthday present. Snoopy, tattered and white fur now greyish-brown, lays next to him, the tip of his ear on the tiny dog's paw. Refocusing on the show, Matt’s eyes go from his dog back to the television. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Due to being a contractor, Matt always has something to judge on each house, and Sylvie’s voiced how ‘cute’ she thinks it is, though he doesn’t understand why. It's a true concern! The last episode they watched had a house with a load bearing wall that the couple had wanted to destroy! As the show continues to play, Matt thinks they’ll choose house three, while Sylvie thinks it’ll be house one. They choose house two, and they both voice (loudly) what idiots the couple are. The dog next to them huffs, as if he’s an old man watching two young children. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On their third episode, the area around his navel aches again, lasting longer this time. When it doesn’t let up right away after he exhales, Matt right hand presses against it, and after another moment, it subsides. He smiles at Sylvie, who’s contentedly watching the television. Matt can’t think of a moment where he’s been happier, just relaxing with his girlfriend on their couch, their dog beside them. They’ve ordered take out and are waiting on it, and when it finally arrives, House Hunters has ended, and Fixer Upper is now on. The man will readily admit that this show holds his attention much more, and he likes watching Chip’s approach to renovations. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” Sylvie says in between bites of her pasta. “That’ll be us soon. Once we find the right place. I know you, and I know you’re going to want to fix </span>
  <em>
    <span>twenty</span>
  </em>
  <span> things,” she smirks. Matt rolls his eyes fondly, but he knows she’s right. They’ve recently started looking for their own place instead of just staying in Matt’s apartment. The qualifiers as of late are a fenced in yard for Beau, a large kitchen, and, if they’re able to find it, a fireplace in the master bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t help that I know what needs to be updated and fixed!” He laughs, eyes wide but playful. “And if I seem to recall correctly, you’re the one who said she wanted an open floor plan. If we’re not moving into a loft, there’s no way we’re finding that in Chicago within our budget. There’s going to be a renovation.” As he spears a piece of his meatball, Matt feels suddenly over-fed, like he’s eaten three of his dish already. He’s only about four bites in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The firefighter forces himself to eat more, knowing if he doesn’t he’ll probably wake up in the middle of the night starving. By the bite that takes him to half done, Matt’s thoroughly stuffed, getting up to put both of their leftovers away in the fridge. As he does, his stomach gives a sharp pain across his abdomen and he lets out a tiny, pained noise of surprise. Sylvie looks up instantly, even Beau raises his head in curiosity, which makes the firefighter blush at his own dramatics. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he smiles at them, stomach already back to normal. “Just stood up the wrong way.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God you’re so accident prone,” the paramedic laughs, smacking his butt as he walks away. Matt throws a smile over his shoulder and winks teasingly, happy that this is his life now. No more sadness or feeling alone, no depression or doubt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re in bed by eleven. Sylvie has a spin class at eight tomorrow morning, and Matt’s helping Ms.Kramer with her porch, making sure all the boards are sturdy so she won’t fall like she had a month ago. As they settle down, teeth brushed and in their pajamas, Matt nuzzles in close. Cuddling has always been somewhat hard, Matt’s a stomach sleeper and Sylvie’s a side sleeper. Usually they can compromise and they take turns sleeping like the other, or at least staying in a comfortable cuddle position till they’re both too sleepy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tonight, Matt chooses to lay on his side, bringing Sylvie in close so he can be the big spoon. He feels inexplicably drawn to her right now, wants to bury his face in her hair and get as close as possible. He’s cold (like always), and she’s warm, and it’s making him feel drowsy and exhausted. Beau is snuggled up under the covers, laying further down near their legs. Matt’s always so nervous the dog will start having difficulty breathing, especially since he’s a frenchie, but he never does. The extra warmth is comforting, even if Sylvie says it’s stifling. They’re all asleep in minutes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clock reads 3:47 when Matt wakes up. Beau is no longer under the covers, instead he’s sitting next to Matt, panting in his face and using his left paw to scratch against Matt’s shoulder. Blinking, the man looks at the dog and then sighs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to go out?” He keeps his voice low, not wanting to wake his girlfriend. It happens once in a blue moon, now that Beau’s over a year old. He’ll wake up and need to pee, and Matt would much rather he get him up then pee in the bed. He’ll leave that particular experience for his and Sylvie’s future child. When the dog's nub of a tail wags, the blonde drags himself out of bed and shoves an old academy sweatshirt over his white tee, throwing on socks as well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Matt slips on Beau’s little blackhawks sweatshirt, now his correct size, pain flares in his stomach. He straightens up automatically, the jostling making the pain worse, but then it stops again, and he huffs quietly. He’s getting tired of all of these weirdly-timed stomachaches. He feels okay otherwise. Tugging his boots on, the Captain puts on Beau’s leash and heads outside, carrying the spoiled dog who he knows won’t walk on the cold concrete. God he can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>wait</span>
  </em>
  <span> till they have a real yard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Returning to bed twenty minutes later, now cold from the Chicago weather, Matt lays down and shuts his eyes, but sleep doesn’t come. Instead, he tosses and turns (much to Beau’s chagrin), unable to get fully comfortable enough to fall back asleep. He must though, because suddenly the firefighter is opening his eyes and light is tricking in through the window near the bed. He feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not quite right, and he shivers, cold and tired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waking up, Sylvie stretches and then curls into him, smiling. “Morning.” Her hair is somewhat messy and she’s bleary from sleep, and she’s beautiful in a way Matt can’t even describe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning babe. Sleep well?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The paramedic nods, rubbing her face and yawning. “Mhm. Guess I should get up and get ready,” she huffs, making the firefighter laugh quietly. They both shift, making Beau whine and slowly get himself out of the covers, looking thoroughly unimpressed at the fact they’re all up so early. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on Beau, let’s go get breakfast and take you on a walk,” Matt says, stretching. As he does so, his stomach gives an achy throb, though instead of just around the navel, it’s now there and slightly to the right. He doesn’t understand how his stomach is still hurting, but the man supposes it could be worse. At least he’s not sick. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Preparing Beau’s breakfast is a tedious task. After much research and reading, Matt’s found that the best food for their frenchie is raw meat, eggs, salmon oil, shredded carrots, green beans, and a supplement that has extra glucosamine for his little joints. He puts it all in Beau’s stainless steel bowl, a new, slanted one that helps brachycephalic dogs eat slower and digest their food better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While the pup eats, Matt thinks about what he wants for breakfast, but nothing sounds good. His usual eggs and a smoothie doesn’t sound remotely appealing, and after a moment of trying to decide, the Captain decides to forego the meal altogether. He makes a smoothie for Sylvie though, knowing she’ll enjoy the protein before working out. Setting it in the fridge, Matt pulls on his shoes and jacket, once again taking their dog out into the cold to do his business. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Beau pees on a tree around the block, he tries to put words with how he feels. Even after getting up and moving around, he still doesn’t feel right. Walking home, the dog waddling in front of him happily, Matt sighs, deciding to give up. It’s not like he’s going to be telling anyone he feels wrong, he’ll just deal with it and try to get better sleep tonight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They get back as Sylvie’s leaving. Beau whines and tries jumping up on her leg, making Sylvie look at the dog sympathetically. “I know bubba, I’m sorry. But I’ll be back in a couple of hours, I promise. Mama loves you,” she rubs the dogs head and then presses a kiss to her boyfriends lips. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> I love you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you too Syl. See you later, have fun at spin class! Kick everyone else’s butt!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not a competition….but you know I will!” She winks and heads out, both boys watching as she shuts the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt arrives at Ms.Kramer’s at 7:55, always one to be punctual. Taking stock of the boards that definitely need to be replaced, he jumps when the door opens. Martha Kramer is a sweet woman in her late seventies, someone who he’s been helping for almost a decade. She’s always trying to give him more than he charges, as well as feed him anything she can. The firefighter is sure she’s lonely, living alone with her large Labrador, her husband having passed away years ago. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After coffee and refusal for her to make muffins, assuring he’s full, Matt starts on the porch. He figures out how many boards are needed, and the length and width, then excuses himself to their local hardware store, paper in hand with sloppily written notes on what to get. It takes longer than usual, as it seems everyone’s trying to get wood today. After nearly an hour spent driving and getting his supplies, the Captain is back on the porch, tired even if it’s only ten am. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day is spent in repetitive motions, taking up boards and replacing them. The cold weather makes Matt’s hands freeze, and even the CFD beanie he’s wearing slowly starts losing its desired effect. At half past noon, a sharp pain appears in his stomach, lower than before. Sucking in a breath, he pauses on the board he’s replacing, moving his hand to touch at his stomach. It’s tender and aching, and as Matt presses into his abdomen, the pain intensifies, making him shift in an attempt to push it away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Body shivering, he goes back to work. It’s not as if he can leave his job half finished due to a silly stomach ache. Moving around makes it worse, but the Captain tries to ignore it, even when the pain jabs against him at every hammer of a nail. Matt’s on his last board, and he’s not sure he’s ever been happier to get a job finished. He’s got the sealant to brush over the wood, but at least he’s not going to be making jarring motions anymore. Briefly, he wonders if something is wrong, but then reminds himself he’s fine. It’s just a stomach ache. He’s not running a fever or vomiting, doesn’t really feel bad aside from being tired from all the work- maybe a bit uncomfortable, but certainly not what he’d qualify as sick. He figures if anything, he pulled a muscle from the fire three days ago, carrying more than a couple of unconscious, grown men out of the large building. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sealant takes no time at all, and twenty minutes after six, Matt’s heading back to the apartment. As he waits at a red light, the blonde touches his stomach again, an annoying compulsion, as if maybe touching it enough will make the pain go away. It doesn’t, it only serves to make his abdomen feel full, like he’s eaten too much. A wave of nausea rolls over him as he parks in his usual spot in front of the apartment complex, strong enough that Matt has to pause as he gets out of his truck. Swallowing thickly, the firefighter rubs his head, stands up, and then books it to the elevator. When he gets to the door of their apartment, the nausea subsides, but the ache is still there, not as pronounced, lingering in the background. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m home!” Matt calls out, Beau instantly appearing from their living room, running up and jumping at his leg. Smiling at their small frenchie, he picks him up, petting at his ears and neck. “Hey Buddy. You and mama have fun today? I bet you did!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beau snorts and his nub of a tail wags furiously, leaning up to lick at Matt’s face. He’s not sure he’ll ever get tired of being greeted with such intense puppy-love. Setting the dog back down and watching him scamper off back to the living room, the man follows. Sylvie is in the middle of looking at something on her laptop, oblivious to her surroundings. Smiling, Matt creeps slowly around to her, staying on the edge of the room so she doesn’t notice him. Beau looks at him and cocks his head, and Matt gives him a somewhat stern look that translates to </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘stay quiet, don’t move.’   </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quickly and suddenly, Matt lunges forward and grabs Sylvie’s shoulders, grinning. “Hey Syl!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvie jumps and lets out a semi-scream, not loud enough to truly qualify as one...maybe a shriek? The Captain can’t help but laugh at the realization that falls on her face right before she pushes him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell?!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, you were zoned out, I couldn’t resist,” Matt gives her his best, most innocent smile, and her incredulous look softens. He leans forward and kisses her forehead. “Sorry…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You definitely made me zone back in,” she huffs, but there’s no heat behind the words, and she shakes her head fondly. “You’re so lucky I love you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grinning, Matt’s not sure he’ll ever get over hearing those words leave her lips, wonders if he’ll always still feel like a teenage boy around his crush. “I love you too, I’m sorry I scared you, Sunshine. Can I make it up to you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvie narrows her eyes playfully, pout still on her lips. “Mm….if making it up to me means getting dinner from Eleven City,” she’s smiling now, and Matt nods. He’ll never say no to her. She could ask him to commit murder, Santa Clarita Diet-style and he’d gladly become the Joel to her Sheila. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I can make that happen,” Matt jokes, sitting down next to her, leaning in close. “I also think that you just want to go there because there’s a Ben and Jerry’s next to it, and you’re crazy and want ice cream even though it’s October.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blush that rises to the blondes cheeks is all the confirmation he needs. He’s hit the nail on the head. Laughing quietly, Matt’s lips meet hers, and they kiss until they both need oxygen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, food. I love you, and you know I love your kisses, but I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>starving</span>
  </em>
  <span> Matt Casey.” Sylvie’s using her no-nonsense voice, though it’s not as effective when there’s still a hint of breathiness from the kissing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span> ma’am. I’m going to shower and then we can go, it’ll be quick, promise.” He presses a kiss to her cheek and then gets up, heading to his left to get to the bathroom. It’s nice that their things are all intermingled now, not just a random shampoo bottle of hers in the corner. They’re going on eight months of living together fully, and even if there’s more hair ties around than he knows what to do with, he’d never change it. Never change how he’s had to move his body wash from its normal spot so Sylvie can put her shampoo there, or how now he has to get up an extra half hour earlier than he had before, to make sure there’s hot water for both of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stepping under warm spray, some of the tension from all the physical labor dissolves. His body is still tired and vaguely achy from all the repetitive motions of the day, but the heat gets at the brunt of it. Matt washes his hair and body quickly, then grabs the face wash Sylvie had picked out for him, rubbing it in in small circles like he’d taught her. The new addition to his routine of over thirty years is broken when the dull ache that’s been simmering on the back burner in his stomach flares. This time, it doesn’t seem to want to let up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt throws his head back under the water, rinsing the parts of his face he’d managed, then stands frozen, clenching his jaw. He knows it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘such a Casey way of handling things</span>
  </em>
  <span>’, as Kidd would say, trying his hardest to make the feeling go away just by sheer thought. Swallowing thickly, the man takes in a deep breath then slowly exhales, deflating when the pain ebbs, but it’s low simmer on the back burner has been kicked up a notch. Not enough to make him need to do anything about it, but it’s more noticeable now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grumbling quietly to himself, Matt gets out of the shower and dries off, ready to get into warm clothes as his shower-hot body meets cold air. Normally he’d be heading to the bedroom to do just that, but once again, there’s an added step to his routine now that he and Sylvie are together. Moving to their sink, the Captain plucks a small, round glass jar off of the middle of the stone countertop. Moisturizer for his sensitive skin, the blonde had explained to him, so that during the cold months he wouldn’t dry out. Matt will never say it to anyone but her, but he can tell a difference and doesn’t mind using it. He wonders if Kidd has Sev doing the same thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Choosing the sweater Sylvie likes; the hunter green one that makes his eyes appear more green than blue, he pulls on dark jeans and socks, pushing his hair back with his usual pomade that allows his bangs to stay in place. He’s been keeping it longer, just like last year, deciding that it’s a good length for Autumn and Winter. Sylvie likes playing with it when they’re watching tv, and the firefighter enjoys it more than he’d like to admit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You coming, grandpa?” Matt looks into the mirror and gives his girlfriend, who’s standing behind him, a playful glare. They’re a little over six years apart, but boy does Sylvie like to rub it in his face any chance she gets. It’s all playful though, and Matt doesn’t mind. If anything, he’s amazed he’d not realized their age difference sooner than just over a year ago. It hadn’t ever come up, when they celebrated earlier birthdays of hers. His mother </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> always told him there were two things you never ask a woman- her age or weight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he directs over his shoulder, eyes meeting hers through the mirror. “You look...really beautiful.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvie smiles and flips her hair playfully. She’s wearing a newer sweater, one she’d asked if he liked while they’d gone shopping over near Riverwalk. It’s what she’d called; if Matt remembers correctly, color blocked, grey sleeves and a muted pink body. It’s one of the softest things Matt’s ever felt in his life, and one of his favorite things she owns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well thank you, you look beautiful too. And handsome, but mostly beautiful,” she winks and Matt moves quickly, ignoring the ache that intensifies in his stomach, instead, wrapping his arms around her middle and drawing the paramedic close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop being cute. It should be illegal to be this cute,” he says with a smile, pressing a quick but firm kiss to her lips.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t <em>help</em> it, you know this Matt. I was born like this.” Another kiss. “Beau’s been fed and taken out. He peed almost instantly. I can’t wait till we have a yard,” Sylvie looks at him with a dreamy smile, making Matt’s insides feel like jelly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll definitely be nice,” the man nods in agreement. Beau comes walking up with snoopy in his mouth, looking like a child who’s picked out their lovey, ready to go out with them. Matt crouches down, masking a wince as his stomach gets jostled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Beau, mama and I are going out to dinner, but we’ll be back soon. Make sure no intruders try to break in okay?” Matt swears the dog seems saddened by this news, but then Sylvie’s putting a hand on his shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go, I’m starving. We love you Beau!!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s half past seven when they walk into Eleven City Cafe. It’s one of their favorite places and not too far from both their home and the firehouse, which makes it a frequent breakfast endeavour after a hard shift. Their regular table is somehow open, the one tucked into the corner. Matt knows Sylvie’s always been a big window person- chooses to sit by a window any chance she gets to people-watch. He’s the opposite, would much rather be away from people, able to fully hold a conversation without interruptions or distractions. They almost always sit at windows; Matt’s learning to like them, but the little corner table at Eleven City has become theirs, since their first date there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The grilled cheese and tomato soup is usually gone before Sylvie finishes her turkey burger. Fries are usually stolen too. Tonight however, Matt’s stomach isn’t too keen on either. He gets through half of his sandwich and a quarter of his soup before his stomach feels bloated and gross. Shifting, he notices Sylvie looking at him, confusion written on her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> finish your food here.” She reaches her hand out and he takes it, squeezing it gently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m okay, just not hungry I guess. Feel really full already,” he hedges, not wanting to ruin a good night by complaining of a belly ache. Sylvie searches his eyes as if to find another answer, then nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. I’m still getting Ben and Jerry’s though,” she says with a playful pointedness, and Matt grins. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing will come in between you and your ice cream, I promise.” Matt gives her the boy scout honor, which makes her laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Were you actually a boy scout?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt blushes and ducks his head, feeling monumentally embarrassed. “Uhm...</span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> I say yes….” he trails off, rubbing at the back of his now flushed neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please tell me you have photos!! I wanna see a little Matt with his uniform on,” Sylvie’s eyes crinkle at the corners as she grins. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly I don’t know if Christie kept any of the family albums. I was fifteen, I didn’t really think about how I might want them when I was older. My uncle might have something, but…” he trails off, not wanting to go much further into this whole territory. He’s never brought up his Uncle Gerard before, and even now it’s a touchy subject. Matt can understand Christie not wanting to be his guardian, she’d been in college and working hard. Having to take care of her kid brother after their mom shot their dad was asking a lot. Uncle Gerard though...he’d simply said no because….well Matt assumes because he just didn’t like him. Something must tip Sylvie off that he’d rather have not brought the name up, because she squeezes his hand again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good thing I have lots of cute photos of me as a kid. I did ice skating and baseball, and of course soccer. I’m sure next time we go see mom and dad they can find some,” Sylvie assures. Matt’s noticed that she’s been doing that a lot lately, referring to her parents as ‘mom and dad’ rather than ‘my mom and dad’. He’s not sure how to feel about it yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of him wants to lean into it, to completely accept Janette and David as his honorary parents, call them mom and dad too. And he’s sure one day he will. But so much of this is new, he’d never had a real relationship with Gabby’s or Hallie’s parents, not like this. David sometimes texts him during Blackhawk games about goals made, even though he doesn’t live in Chicago. Janette calls Sylvie every Sunday night and has started to ask for him too. A small part of him wants to shy away from the parental figures he’d so desperately needed growing up, the sudden rush of it overwhelming. For now, he’s trying to see how far his brain will allow it all to go. He really </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to be able to call the couple mom and dad soon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t wait.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With shift in the morning, they don’t stay out late. By the time nine rolls around, they’re leaving Ben and Jerry’s, Sylvie happy, with her chocolate peanut butter milkshake in hand. The drive back home is quick and the paramedic sings along to Taylor Swift in between sips. Matt watches her from the corner of his eye, wishing he could record her. Everyday life is something Matt cherishes, even more than big events. He hopes he’ll be able to remember her singing in the car with her peanut butter milkshake for years to come. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beau starts barking when they unlock the door. The frenchie’s barely over a year; just over 14 months now, and while he’s an almost perfect dog, he definitely has separation issues. The only place he doesn’t mind going without them is the Herrmann’s, and Matt’s sure it’s because of the five children who love on and play with him. Originally they had tried out a doggy day care only a few miles away from the firehouse for when they were on shift, but he’d not done well. Now they keep him with them on shift days, letting him play with Tuesday and get socialized. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay</span>
  </em>
  <span> Beau, mama and papa are home,” Sylvie promises, picking the sixteen pound runt up. Though he’s small, his big personality makes up for it when he’s with other dogs. Matt swears Beau thinks he’s a german shepherd, with how much he wants to play-fight with big dogs. As Sylvie comforts the whimpering dog, Matt kisses his head, then Sylvie’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to go take him out and then get ready for bed, I’m beat,” the firefighter admits. With a quick kiss to the paramedic’s lips, he takes Beau and pulls his little sweatshirt on, then heads out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>+ + +</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvie can’t shake the feeling that </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> is off about Matt. He’s been acting oddly, not entirely himself, and it’s making her anxious. She can’t tell if she’s just being silly, or if she should ask him if he’s truly alright. She’s also not sure whether this is a physical problem or an emotional one. Why does he have to be so damn good at hiding his feelings? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Biting at her lip, the blonde shuffles out of her sweater and jeans, and into sweatpants and an old shirt of her boyfriends, knowing he won’t mind. Letting her hair down from her ponytail, Sylvie brushes her teeth and crawls into bed right as she hears their door open and then shut. Beau comes bolting in from the hallway, running up the little dog stairs they’d bought him a while back so he’d be able to get on the bed with them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt walks in a moment later, and Sylvie watches him closely. He looks a little pale, at least she thinks he does, though she could just be trying to grasp at straws. His hair is messy, and the paramedic wonders if somehow people’s hair can get darker as they get older, instead of lighter. When she’d first met Matt, almost six years ago, his hair had definitely been a lighter blonde, but now it’s bordering on brown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get changed, I’m sleepy and in need of some infamous Matt Casey cuddles,” she smiles at him, which earns her a nose scrunch, an adorably confused look, and then a head shake as he heads to the bathroom. While she waits, Sylvie grabs her phone and checks her emails, then pulls up Instagram to see what her friends are up to. She comments on a new photo Stella’s posted of her and Kelly, a selfie that’s beyond cute. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>@syl.brett: You guys need to stop, or Matt and I are going to lose the title of cutest couple. 😭</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s in the middle of texting Mackey about the new place they need to drive by for coffee, when Matt slides up beside her. He smells like toothpaste, their laundry detergent, and home. Shifting, she nuzzles in against his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone’s tired,” Sylvie observes softly, running a hand through his hair, watching his eyes shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmhm. Long day,” he mumbles back, laying on his stomach. Restlessly, he shifts, barely awake while Sylvie smiles at Stella’s response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>@badasskidd: Yeah right, you guys are like those cute videos you see of two golden retriever puppies who fall in love. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt is definitely a golden retriever, though she’s always seen herself as more of a westie. Before she’s able to reply, a little comment alert pops up and she refreshes the photo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>@sexyride79: Brett’s definitely a pit bull. Looks scary and could possibly kill you if you mess with someone they love, but also a sweetheart any other time. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Maybe she isn’t a westie after all. About to respond with a string of emojis, she’s once again interrupted, but this time it’s by Matt, turning until he’s on his back, left arm draped across his stomach. Beau is under the covers, huffing loudly enough for the couple to hear, as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop moving papa! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eyes narrowing, she turns to her boyfriend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” She keeps her voice gentle, putting her phone down to run a hand through the firefighters hair. The man looks up at her, wearing an expression she’s not sure she’s seen before, maybe once or twice back years ago, but not in a long time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My stomach kind of hurts,” Matt admits. In the back of her mind, Sylvie’s proud of him, proud of admitting his feelings. He’s never been one to complain or admit to any kind of ache or pain, especially not on the job. The idea he’ll be honest with her about things like this, at least at home, makes her happy. She’s brought back to reality when her brain really processes what he’s said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry...can I get you anything? I think we have Tums somewhere,” she asks, noting how tired Matt looks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s okay. It doesn’t feel like indigestion...it’s more uncomfortable than anything. Hurts, but not that bad,” he tries to explain, which has Sylvie rolling her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s bad enough you’re laying on your back,” the paramedic points out, trying not to smile when he huffs, much like the dog near them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just need to sleep it off, I’m really okay Syl,” he promises, squeezing her hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deciding not to push it, she nods, pressing a kiss to his forehead. No fever. That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> at least. Matt stays quiet so Sylvie takes his lead, and soon she can hear his breaths even out, telling her he’s asleep. Sylvie lays there, trying not to overthink things. Logically, she knows Matt’s fine, just dealing with a silly stomach ache. But something about it all makes her slightly uneasy. He’s never admitted to one before, but maybe this is just him getting better at communicating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>+ + +</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s silent, aside from Beau’s breathing, when Matt wakes up. Still pitch black with no sun coming in through the windows, the man gathers it’s still relatively late. Wondering what’s woken him, Matt goes to shift but is met with nausea that’s more intense than it’s been the past day. Swallowing, feeling his body shiver, the firefighter stands, wincing at how tender the right side of his stomach feels. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moving to the bathroom, Matt shuts the door quietly and then sits near the toilet, body tense as he waits for the inevitable. It takes less than a minute for him to start gagging and then get sick, acid burning his throat and nose. He’s always hated throwing up, even as a kid. He can remember how Christie would always tell him it was okay, and that it was just his body helping him get germs out quickly. Trembling, Matt wipes his mouth with his shirt and waits, not wanting to have to repeat the whole process. Sure enough, barely two minutes pass before he’s getting sick again, stomach pain sharpening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain’s not sure how long he sits there after that, waiting hazily, but when he starts nodding off, he takes it as a sign to head back to bed. Washing his hands and brushing his teeth feels like it takes forever, energy drained from the sudden onslaught of adrenaline, and Matt’s eyes are shut the second his head hits his pillow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The alarm from Sylvie’s phone wakes both him and Beau up. Opening his eyes, he finds not much has changed from a few hours earlier. He still feels nauseous and his stomach still hurts, much to his annoyance. Sitting up carefully, he watches Sylvie turn the alarm off as Beau crawls up slowly, nose peeking out from the covers moments later. Matt slides his hand under the covers and scratches behind the dog's ear gently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning, sleep well?” Sylvie asks, moving to snuggle up against him. Pressure against his stomach makes the firefighter shut his eyes momentarily, trying to pull himself together. It’s not that it hurts badly, but the feeling is odd and unsettling, stomach still feeling bloated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pressing a kiss to her hair, Matt shrugs. “Pretty good. What about you?” He feels bad for not being completely honest, but he doesn’t want to worry her, especially not on the morning of shift. A brief thought of ‘what if I call out’ crosses his mind but he shuts it down quickly. A stomach ache is no reason to skip a whole shift- it would mean Boden having to find relief, and that’s not fair to the chief or anyone else in the house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very good, even if Beau is a heater,” She looks over at the lump in the bed where their dog is, huffing good naturedly. “Beau, you want breakfast?” Instantly, the little dog's head pops up from the covers, tongue sticking out just barely like always. “Yeah? Lets go bubba.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt watches Beau run down the steps from their bed, already spinning in circles as he follows Sylvie through their bedroom door to the kitchen, tail wagging. Sighing and rubbing his face, the Captain stands and keeps his left arm wrapped gingerly across his torso, slowly uncurling himself. Standing with his posture perfect makes his stomach feel worse, but he powers through it, going to get ready for the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Getting dressed is an ordeal. It’s uncomfortable to move certain ways that make his right side stretch, and pulling on his white polo hurts even more than pulling on his pants. By the time he’s ready for shoes, Matt feels exhausted. Heading to the kitchen, he sees Beau’s collar and leash gone, which means Sylvie is walking him. Making smoothies for them to take on the road, the blonde decides to make the usual berry smoothie for his girlfriend, but opts for a bland, vanilla protein one for himself, not sure his stomach can handle much else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they’re heading out for shift, Beau in his little dog car seat in the back, Sylvie turns and looks at him, putting her hand in his. “I forgot to ask, how’s your stomach?” Her eyes are wide and worried, and it makes Matt give her a small smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright. Maybe I ate something bad, just a little sore,” he tries to downplay the answer, not wanting to admit he feels generally worse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re still feeling bad later, when Mackey and I go to Med I’ll see if I can badger some Zofran out of Halstead,” Sylvie says sympathetically, a swell of affection rising in him. God he loves her so much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty sure I’ll be alright, but I’ll let you know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They arrive at the firehouse half an hour early, both of them wanting to get settled and figure out a game plan for the day. That’s one thing Matt’s thankful for, the fact he and Sylvie both have the same work ethic. If he looks back, that might be one of the numerous things that had drawn him to her, aside from her loyalty and kindness and how badass she is. He’s thankful they’re both dedicated enough to the job that they want to get there early, want to be organized and thorough. Sylvie hops out of the truck as Matt opens his door, clenching his jaw as his pain ticks up, like an elevator. It’s only one story of pain, but it’s enough that he’s really not able to ignore it anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You coming?” Sylvie asks as she sets Beau down on the pavement, his Blackhawks hoodie keeping him warm. Matt looks up, fist still clenched against his jeans, then nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry, lost in thought,” he says lamely, knowing the paramedic isn’t buying it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The couple walks into the firehouse, warm air hitting their cold bodies. Beau runs over to where Selleck; a guy from first shift’s truck, is waiting for his routine treat from the man. Sylvie unhooks the dog's leash while Matt makes his way to the locker room. No one’s there, so Matt throws his bag in his locker and sits down on the wooden bench, rubbing a hand over his face. Technically, shift hasn’t even started yet and he’s already feeling worn out. Blinking sluggishly, the Captain stands back up and presses his hand against his stomach absentmindedly as he walks to his quarters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remembering Boden telling him he’d need the report on their last fire today, he grabs the paper from his folder and sits at his desk, reading his outline. He’s not sure how long he spends sitting and staring at it, but suddenly Severide’s coming in, not bothering to knock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Case, you coming? We have roll call in five, and Ritter brought muffins.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Muffins sound unappetizing, but instead of voicing this particular thought, Matt merely nods and stands, arm back over his stomach protectively. The look Severide shoots him makes the man look back with confusion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” the Lieutenant assures, but Matt doesn’t miss the way the older man keeps his eyes on him as they walk towards the common room. Maybe it’s his stomach ache putting him on edge, but his mood is starting to deteriorate. Passing by the muffins, he sees Sylvie and Mackey talking at their usual little table in the briefing room; Beau in Sylvie’s lap happily drinking up all the attention from Mackey as he’s cooed over. Everyone else is inside too, catching up about their days off, but the thought of holding a conversation seems daunting, and the Captain’s grateful he usually stands in the back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Severide steps up next to him a minute later, chewing what Matt assumes in the last of his muffin, a small blue stain on his lips from the blueberries. Leaning back against the wall, the blonde shuts his eyes, opening them only when Sev starts talking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, you okay? You seem out of it this morning. Long night with Brett?” The last bit is teasing and while usually Matt would roll his eyes and say something witty back to his best friend, today the friendly teasing is unwelcomed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s none of your business what we do,” Matt says, brow furrowing. He doesn’t mean to be prickly, but he doesn’t have the energy to do this today. “And I’m fine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn...</span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span> man, didn’t mean to offend you…” Eyebrows raised, Severide backs off, both hands up in surrender. The urge to apologize bubbles up, but Boden is walking in, so the Captain keeps his mouth shut and turns his attention to their Chief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As you know, our firehouse has been chosen to be a test site for a new program in the academy, to help new candidates understand the ins and outs of everyday life on shift,” the older man speaks. Most everyone in the room groans, but the noise dies out when Boden clears his throat. “I understand that this isn’t exactly...optimal, with how busy fifty one is, but I’ve been told that that’s one reason we were chosen, to show how a higher volume house works.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Herrmann groans, throwing his head back. “No offense Chief, but don’t you think a different shift would be better? We’ve got enough new people here…not that that’s bad, you guys are great, but..”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Boden frowns. “This shift was chosen intentionally, due to having two Lieutenants , a PIC, and a Captain. And next shift, when they’re here, we will </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> treat them with respect. Do I make myself clear?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A round of ‘yes Chief’ sounds out, and the man nods. “Good. Now…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trying to pay attention, Matt focuses his eyes on Boden, but he feels oddly chilled suddenly, like someone’s turned a fan directly on him. Shivering, he moves his arm that’s been leaning against the wall on top of his arm that’s wrapped around his stomach, in hopes to provide some more warmth, on top of the jacket he’s already got on. Feeling a sudden jab to the shoulder, Matt looks at Severide, who’s gesturing to where Boden is standing and frowning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Casey, do you have the report from the last fire yet?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling a bit like a child getting scolded in front of his classmates, Matt licks his lips. “I’m finishing it up, it’ll be on your desk within the hour, sir,” he assures, stomach twisting nervously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, see that it does. Alright, you’re all dismissed. Let’s get those rigs looking clean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As people start to trickle out, Cruz bumps against the firefighter, jostling him, enough that he hits the corner of a table with his hip and abdomen. A pained gasp leaves him before he’s able to hold it in, eyes screwing shut, hand flying to his lower stomach. Normally, hitting the table that gently wouldn’t even cause him to stop walking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Casey! I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Cruz seems somewhat surprised and worried, but Matt shakes his head, trying to get the man to go away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine Cruz, nothing to worry about.” His voice sounds breathy even to himself. Looking up, his old truck mate doesn’t look convinced, but Matt straightens as much as possible, giving him what he hopes is a smile and not a grimace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure? It seemed like you were rea-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Matt cuts him off, voice a little harsher this time. With a reluctant nod, the other man leaves and the Captain clears his throat, trying to put himself back together. He feels Kidd and Mouch staring at him, but he ignores it. His stomach’s throbbing, a deep ache that keeps in time with his heartbeat. Nausea coming on full force, Matt books it for the bathroom, stomach sloshing. His face feels overheated, sweat prickling at his hairline, and he just barely makes it to the stall before he’s falling in front of porcelain, the small amount of smoothie he’d had earlier coming back up, burning his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coughing, he stays frozen, waiting so see if his stomach is going to rebel again. It doesn’t. The nausea doesn’t go away, but after an agonizing few minutes of will he won’t he, Matt finally stands, weak and shaky, flushes the toilet and goes to rinse his mouth out. The firefighter’s barely finished washing his hands when dizziness hits him, making him grip tightly at the counter. When it passes, he looks into the mirror. Matt’s not stupid, he knows the light dusting of pink on his cheeks doesn’t bode well for him. He’ll take some motrin and do his paperwork, the blonde decides, heading back to his quarters. He’ll be fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the day wears on, nobody says the Q word, but they’re all thinking it. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. By noon, truck’s been called out once for a quick kitchen fire, squads helped a minor vehicle accident, and ambo’s only been on two runs. Matt sits at his desk, hunched over as he tries to work on the report for Boden. He knows it’s important to get it done, but his stomach hurts, the dull pain sharpening, like it’s gone from fuzzy to clear. Just as he’s about to stand to talk to Sylvie, the alarm blares. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All companies, structure fire, 2814 North Kedzie.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The drive over has Matt clenching his jaw. Every jostle of the truck has him feeling worse, and though he knows it’s not Kidd’s fault, all he wants is to yank the wheel away from her. His body shivers, not helping the situation. Rolling up to the scene, Matt can tell it’s going to be a rough one. The fire’s consuming the whole building, and only a few people are standing out in front. It doesn’t help that it’s a bookstore, thousands and thousands of pieces of paper readily sitting there to burn. Smoke billowing up into the air, Matt grits his teeth and gets out of the truck, adrenaline starting to course through him. His stomach takes the backburner, body completely in Captain mode as he walks up to the small group of people, Severide close behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We were in the middle of sorting through a shipment when we started smelling smoke. It was like everything went up in flames in seconds.” One of the women tells him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyone inside?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“F-Four of the associates, I think they were in the back…” a tall, older man speaks up. “Two men and two women.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding, Matt turns to his best friend. “Severide, you and squad go through the back, we’ll take the front. Brett, Mackey, get ready, and call a couple more ambo’s,” Matt instructs. Squad and truck grab their SCBA’s and head in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mouch, you and Kidd take the right side, Gallo and I will take the left,” he calls out, crouching low to the ground as flames kick up around them. The movement sparks a sharp pain to cut through his stomach, and Matt makes himself power through it, knowing they have lives on the line. He hears Severide over the radio inform everyone he’s got one victim but the other three aren’t in the back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Captain, I see a victim,” Gallo points over to the corner where a girl, maybe twenty years old, is sitting underneath a table. Even from here he can see her shaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go and get her out,” he instructs, watching as the candidate gets to her and leads her out. Matt looks around, swallowing thickly, feeling weak. Over the radio, Mouch and Kidd announce they’ve found another. Just as the Captain’s about to turn the other way, he sees a man struggling to get free from something. Heading over, he sees a large bookcase on top of the man's leg, unable to break free. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Severide, might need some help near the upper left,” Matt radios in, hearing a ‘copy that’ as he bends down toward the man. “Hey, I’m Matt, we’re going to get you out of here okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man nods, coughing harshly. “M-My leg..” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s pinned, but we’re going to get it out, and you’re going to be okay. Try and take shallow breaths,” the firefighter instructs, shifting again when Severide shows up to help. Standing, Matt winces and then grabs one side of the bookcase while the Lieutenant grabs the other, together able to move the item away.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They make their way out, the man being held on each side by the two, taking him straight over to one of the two remaining ambos, 61 already at Lakeshore. The Captain’s stomach is throbbing, pain pulsing from his navel down almost down to the right side of his hip. Swallowing thickly, he walks away, ignoring the look Severide shoots his way. He’s never felt pain like this before. Pushing it away, he and Severide go back in to assess everything before giving the all clear to Herrmann and his team to hit it with water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the way back to the firehouse, Matt stays silent. His right hand is fisted in his pants, white knuckling the fabric. Biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood, he tries to relax, but it’s useless, he feels weak and hazy from the sharpness. By the time they’re back on the apparatus floor and parking, the blonde’s not sure he’s going to be able to get out without it being obvious that he’s really not feeling well. When the other three start leaving, he shuts his eyes, dizzy and nauseous. Steeling himself, the Captain opens his door and gets out. He makes it halfway across the floor before his breath catches and he freezes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He needs to tell Sylvie. His eyes dart over to an empty space where 61 is normally parked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pain, white hot and searing rips through Matt’s abdomen. It’s like someone’s taken a burning knife and stabbed him before forcing the metal downwards, tearing at his insides. He doubles over, clutching at his side, a strangled noise coming from his throat. This must be how Herrmann felt after being stabbed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Captain? Are you okay?” Kidds voice cuts through the pain. All Matt can do is let out a breathy whine, curling into himself as much as physically possible, body bent in half. The pain intensifies, though Matt’s not sure how, and he stumbles, Kidd just barely managing to hold him upright. “Need some help here! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now</span>
  </em>
  <span>!!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chaos erupts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gallo, go get Boden and figure out where 61 is,” Severide yells, and Matt, whose eyes are now closed, can hear movement all around him. Someone lowers him to the ground, his arm still protectively shielding his stomach, and then a hand is on his forehead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s burning up,” Kidd says quietly, no doubt to Severide. A beat, and then- </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s going on? What happened?” Boden. Matt tries to open his eyes, but the pain keeps them involuntarily screwed shut. He’s unaware his face is wet from tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He got out of the truck and suddenly he can’t even stand he’s in so much pain,” Kidd informs. “He’s running a hell of a fever too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt can’t help it as another pained noise makes its way out. “St’mch hurts….s’like...knife..” The words are ground out and he can feel his body shaking, though he’s not sure whether that’s from the pain or the apparent fever. Nausea overwhelms him and seconds later he’s jerking forward, unable to do anything else, mouth opening as he gets sick weakly, barely anything coming up at all. A few sympathetic noises ring out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ambo’s less than two minutes out Chief,” Gallo supplies from further away, and his voice is anxious. Matt’s sure he’s probably hovering, worried and wanting to help in any way he can. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone tries to move his arm away from his stomach and the Captain makes an embarrassingly feral noise. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He means for the word to come out with more finality, but it ends up sounding weak and vaguely whiny, even to his own ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay bud, Brett’s gonna fix you up and get you to med okay?” Matt’s eyes open at that, darting around to see the woman, but she’s nowhere to be found. As he’s wondering where she is, there’s a noise to the right, a door opening, and then whining and snorting, panting. Beau is running straight towards him, making tiny noises as if to ask what’s wrong with his papa. “Beau, come on, let's get you back inside...Gallo, can yo-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Matt can protest, let them know he wants his dog to stay, Gallo’s scooping him back up much to the dogs protests, and taking him back inside. At the same time, Sylvie and Mackey pull in. He registers a door opening and then slamming shut, quick footsteps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt, hey sweetheart, talk to me, what’s going on…” Sylvie’s voice makes him open his eyes again, though just barely. He tries to answer but a low moan is all that actually makes it out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Said his stomach hurt, like there was a knife in it,” Stella supplies, scooting back to let Sylvie take over. “High fever too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His arm tries to get moved again, and Matt actually shifts this time, desperate to get away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt, I really need to feel your stomach, okay? It’ll be quick, I promise. Please?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The please is what gets him to move his arm just barely, enough that Sylvie palpates it with her hand and Matt lets out the closest thing to a scream anyone’s ever heard from him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay Matt, you’re going to be alright. Severide, can you help me move him? Mackey, radio in to med and let them know we have a possible case of late stage appendicitis coming in.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly being pulled up, Matt groans, inhaling a sharp breath as his turnout coat is taken off and he’s put on the stretcher. Curling back in on himself, the man shivers, barely aware of what’s happening anymore. The firefighter feels something cold on his arm, then a pinch. He’s not sure if he loses time or everything is just happening quickly, but it feels like five seconds between him being laid down, and when the ambo starts moving. Sylvie’s with him in the back, holding his hand, not even complaining as he squeezes it probably tighter than her hand should ever be squeezed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>+ + +</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ride to Chicago Med is the longest seven minutes of her life. Since the radio in from Gallo almost twenty minutes ago, Sylvie’s heart hasn’t stopped beating fast, her mind hasn’t stopped racing. Looking down, she takes in her boyfriend's form. He’s pale but his cheeks are pink, heat pouring off of him. Everything about his posture screams ‘i’m in pain’, and all of that, combined with the tear tracks on his face let her know that whatever’s going on is serious. The paramedic is fairly certain it’s appendicitis, given that she knows his stomach’s been hurting, and when she’d touched his lower right side he’d all but screamed. She’s sure that noise will haunt her dreams for years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The groan Matt lets out makes her heart ache, and she runs her free hand; the one that’s not having the life squeezed out of it, through his sweaty hair. “Shh, it’s okay Matt. We’re almost there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“H-hurts...pain meds?” His voice is wobbly, like he’s on the verge of really and truly crying, and it makes tears prickle behind her own eyes. If Matt Casey is asking for pain meds, she can’t imagine how bad he must be hurting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I can give you something,” Sylvie nods. She’d put a line in before they’d left, but wasn’t sure if he’d actually want something. Taking out a syringe from the second drawer to her left, she puts it in the IV port. “Pushing .3cc’s of ketorolac,” she calls out, so Mackey can hear and she can be held accountable by her partner. Pushing the meds, she waits with bated breath, and then Matt’s body deflates somewhat. Still obviously in pain, but at least it’s taken the edge off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Matt looks at her through glassy eyes, and she’s not sure she’s ever felt so bad for one human being in her life. Sylvie leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead, which makes him give a tiny smile. Small victories, she thinks. He’s going to be fine. If it’s appendicitis, it’s an easy, routine surgery. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re a minute out,” Mackey calls from the front, and Matt lets out a shaky sigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See? Almost there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second they pull up to Med’s back ED doors, they’re met with Halstead and two nurses they don’t usually interact with. Halstead takes one look at the stretcher and gives Matt a surprised look </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt Casey, am I actually seeing you for something other than an injury?” The auburn haired doctor teases, trying to lighten the mood. “What’ve we got?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“41 year old male presenting with persistent debilitating lower right abdomen pain, fever of 102, nausea, vomiting and weakness. Administered .3cc’s of ketorolac upon transportation,” Sylvie rambles off, trying to think if she’s forgotten anything as they walk quickly into the ED. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Matt, what's your pain at, scale of one to ten?” Halstead asks, getting him through a curtain, into a room. All five of them move him to an actual gurney, making the firefighter groan at the movement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Si-Seven,” Matt mumbles out, and Sylvie doesn’t miss that he changes his answer. He’s starting to curl in on himself again, until Halstead presses a hand to his shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, what was it before? I’m just going to touch your stomach, okay? Won’t press down.” Halstead moves his hand lower, and she can see the doubt in her boyfriend's eyes, can see how badly he wants to protect his stomach, fingers clenching the gurney’s sheet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ten,” Matt readily admits, wincing even as Will merely skims his hand against Matt’s abdomen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When did your symptoms start? Quick push,” the last words are quick, and Sylvie knows it’s so the firefighter won’t have time to try and shy away. She watches the doctor push in and as he releases his hand, Matt lets out a guttural noise, trying to twist away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>... uhm…” Matt shuts his eyes and shifts, trying to relieve some of the pain. “Two days ago? I think...I d-don’t....” The man trails off, voice breathy and high, and Sylvie runs a hand through his hair again, trying to move out of the way so the nurses can hook him up to the monitor and check his sats and temp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Halstead hums and nods, before making a fist. “Tell me if this hurts,” he instructs, then raises Matt’s right leg slightly before making a fist and hitting it against the heel of Matt’s boot. Almost instantly, Matt groans, nodding. She half wants to smack Halstead, hating that he’s purposefully putting the other man in pain, but reminds herself that this is the way to help diagnose him, even if it’s hard to watch. Matt grabs her hand weakly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm, I uhm…” the Captain swallows and Sylvie can already tell what’s about to happen, watching the man's already pale face go chalky and grey. “I do-don’t feel..” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Halstead; bless him, hands Sylvie a pink emesis basin and she puts it under his chin as he gets sick, wincing in sympathy. When he finishes, she wipes his mouth with her sleeve, not caring about the gross factor. One of the nurses scoots in and slips a plastic covered thermometer under Matt’s tongue, and Sylvie watches silently as Matt shuts his eyes, looking far too sick than what should be allowed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“102.6,” the woman in scrubs reads off, Halstead writing it in the white chart he’s started. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jennings, let's get him some morphine, we can start with 2mg/ml, and we’ll up it as needed, and 2mg/ml of zofran,” Halstead tells the other nurse. “Matt, we’re going to get you a quick CT scan to confirm, but I’d bet money on you having appendicitis,” he adds. “It’s a quick surgery, easy recovery.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Watching her boyfriend closely, Matt nods, but doesn’t do much else. She’s not sure if he’s worried, scared or just in too much pain to even try and react. The other nurse comes back in a moment later and administers the zofran, flushes the line with saline, and then slowly pushes the morphine. As she does, the firefighter lets out a tiny sigh, and Sylvie can tell that this time the pain medication is really working, his whole body deflating.  When they’re finally alone, Matt turns and looks at her blearily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for bringing me,” he whispers, and she feels her heart break. Does he think she’d just have left him there writhing in pain? Shaking her head, she squeezes his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem at all. I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes roughly ten minutes for them to come and get him for the CT scan, and Sylvie knows it’s quick due to the fact they don’t want to wait longer than necessary. If they do, it could result in his appendix rupturing, which is its own disaster. While Matt’s away in the imaging room, Halstead comes through the curtain, looking sympathetic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re doing it with contrast, so it’ll give us a definitive answer as soon as I get to see it,” he assures, and Sylvie nods, feeling a little nervous. She’s about to ask about surgery options, remembering there’s more than one way now, when Halstead gets paged. “I’ll be back,” he gives her shoulder a squeeze and it reminds her of Matt, and soon she’s alone again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grabbing her phone out of her jacket pocket, she touches the screen and numerous text notifications pop up. Scrolling, she sees the group text labeled ‘Leaders + Stella’ (which always makes her laugh), and clicks it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Matt’s feeling pretty good right now, he’s flying high on morphine and zofran. They took him for a CT a few minutes ago, but Halstead said he’s certain it’s appendicitis. He’ll get prepped for surgery pretty quick I’m guessing, especially with how sick he is. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clicking the send button, it hits Sylvie suddenly that she came here with Mackey, and wow, okay, she feels so bad for just leaving her out there. Hopefully she went back to the house. Standing, the paramedic heads out of the room and looks around. Sitting in the little waiting area is Mackey, focused on her phone. Moving quickly, the blonde approaches her partner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey</span>
  </em>
  <span>...you didn’t have to stay, I’m sorry I didn’t come see you sooner.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mackey gives her a genuine smile, and it’s one of the qualities she likes so much about her, the way she always seems to be understanding and kind. It’s nice to have someone like that to be around. She may be young, but she can be pretty mature at times. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Girl, it’s nothing, seriously. How’s he doing? Pretty scary seeing Captain Casey like that, I can’t lie.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right, Mackey’s new. Gallo’s new. Ritter’s new. They haven’t experienced everything like she has, haven’t seen Matt get shot and then bandage himself back up while being held hostage, haven’t witnessed him almost get burned alive in a fire and say his last goodbyes to Gabby. Swallowing, Sylvie nods, trying to remember what it was like, seeing the stoic, always put together leader get hurt the first time. She’s almost glad she can’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, he got morphine, so I’d say he’s doing great right now,” she jokes lightly. “He’s pretty sick. Fever of 102.6. Halstead agrees it’s appendicitis. They’re doing a CT scan just to completely confirm, but it’s pretty much a done deal.” Shifting, Sylvie touches the watch on her wrist, trying to remind herself again that it’s an easy procedure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn, at least it’s not something more serious. They don’t think it burst, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think so. Usually he’d get better and then worse, and I’m pretty sure he’s been consistently sick the past couple of days. I feel bad I didn’t notice sooner.” It’s true, she feels like she’s let this happen, even though logically she knows that appendicitis can’t be treated at home. There’s truly nothing she could have done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good at least,” Mackey offers, making her smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Standing when she sees Matt’s gurney, the man laying there with his eyes shut, the PIC stands. “You should head back to the house. Even if Boden hasn’t gotten relief in for me yet, he’ll appreciate you being there. You can restock and do inventory,” Sylvie suggests. After getting a nod, Sylvie turns back for a second. “Thank you...for driving and taking over and….thank you Mackey.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you’d do it for me too...even if it’s literally your job. I’m happy to help.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvie steps back into the room, where Jennings is getting his Fluids set back up on the other pole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Matt drawls.“My sunshine angel girl, missed you. They had me drink contrast, made me feel so warm…s’nice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvie laughs and runs her fingers through his hair, smiling as Jennings laughs quietly too. High Matt is silly and lackadaisical and though she’s never experienced it before, she wishes it was more common...but under different circumstances entirely. It’s adorable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I’m glad you’re warm now,” she smiles, knowing Matt probably has no idea April slipped him another blanket too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, face is hot, but everything else s’nice’n’warm.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain starts to drift, one hand over his stomach again, and Sylvie makes a note to tell Halstead he might need some more morphine. Not five minutes later, the doctor is walking in, holding a fall risk bracelet to put on Matt’s wrist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone just won a trip to the operating room to get his appendix out,” Halstead jokes, and Sylvie lets out a breath. Though surgery sucks, she hates to think about what they would have done if it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> been appendicitis. “We’re prepping now, so he’ll be in within half an hour. If he’d waited even an hour longer to get here he’d probably have ended up with it bursting,” the doctor admits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It shouldn’t come as a shock to Sylvie, but it does. She knows Matt didn’t know it was that serious, but still, one of them should have been smart enough to realize something was wrong far sooner than they had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It shouldn’t take long, around an hour. We’re planning on doing it laparoscopically so he’ll heal quicker, but with how inflamed it looked on the CT, if we start and see it’s too inflamed, we’ll have to do an open appendectomy instead,” he explains, and Sylvie understands, glad they’ll be cautious about it all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A noise makes both of them turn, and Matt’s looking at them through half lidded eyes. “M’gerting surgery?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah honey, you’re going to get your appendix taken out,” Sylvie offers, rubbing his arm. The man nods and lets his eyes fall shut again, shifting a bit. “Can he have more morphine? I think his stomach is bothering him again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Halstead looks at Matt and nods. “I’ll get Jennings in here to give him some more, then we’ll get him back to the OR.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the man predicted, half an hour later April is coming in to wheel him back. Sylvie leans down and steals a kiss before they leave, smiling gently at her boyfriend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, even your dumb appendix,” she jokes, making Matt laugh tiredly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you too Sunshine. See you in an hour.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After he’s been wheeled off, Sylvie bats away all the nervous energy she has. Matt’s gone through numerous surgeries in his life, and all have turned out fine. This one is no different. Jennings comes in and gives her a smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, we’re moving you guys to an actual room instead of keeping you here, since he’ll be here at least overnight.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Sylvie grabs Matt’s boots and phone, she bites her lip. She doesn’t like the way the nurse had said ‘at least overnight’. Was she already expecting complications? Staying quiet, the paramedic follows the young woman down the hall to a separate wing for in-patient care. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll take you to his recovery room once he’s out, but this will be your room for the rest of his stay.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvie looks around, deciding it’s not the worst place to stay. It’s bland, sure, but it’s not entirely sterile and clinical, they’ve put in pops of seafoam green. She doesn’t understand why adult hospitals don’t get the same treatment kids hospitals do- okay, yes she does. But still!! Sick people would flourish better in a happier environment. Plopping herself down on the little window seat that she’s sure inevitably can turn into a pull out bed that she’ll be sleeping on tonight, the blonde gets her phone back out, seeing a handful of new messages in the leader group chat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn! Tell him thanks for scaring the shit out of me and that he owes me at least three cupcakes and I’m allowed to get out of one rig cleaning. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hopefully if he has appendicitis they’ll get it done quick and it’ll be a speedy recovery! I remember Cindy had it when we first got married, and it wasn’t too awful. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Keep us updated, hoping all goes well. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tell Case that not only does he owe all that shit to Stella, but he also owes me beer for having to pick his heavy ass up and haul him to the ambo. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvie laughs out loud, smiling. Leave it to her friends to make her laugh at texts pertaining to Matt being in the hospital. It’s just...they’re all so on brand for each of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So Matt’s in surgery now, they said if he’d waited longer it would have burst, so at least that didn’t happen. Will let you know how it goes. And I’ll definitely let Matt know about the things he’s now entitled to give. :) </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Needing to vent more, Sylvie swipes back and clicks on just Stella’s name, then starts typing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, this new nurse I’ve never seen before? She’s kind of annoying and she said ‘this is where you’ll be staying at least for tonight’ like Matt’s going to suddenly go into sepsis or something. She looks fresh out of nursing school, and the fact she doesn’t know who he is kind of bothers me? Does that make me a bitch?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She clicks send and waits, watching as three little dots appear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nah, that doesn’t make you a bitch, just means she needs to get up to speed. Matt will be fine. She’s probably nervous so she’s covering all her bases. Honestly, she’s probably jealous that you’re with him. And yes, that could go either way. </span>
  </em>
  <span>😏  </span>
  <em>
    <span>How long is the surgery supposed to take? I get to take over for Casey for the day, so I can have us swing by and sit with you if you want until we get a call. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Around an hour. It’s okay Stella, but thank you, seriously. It’s already been twenty minutes. But!! If you feel so inclined to drop my bag off, that would be SERIOUSLY appreciated. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my god. STELLA. Beau!! How could I forget our dog, I’m the worst dog mom ever. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I can definitely drop it off. And don’t worry about B, Kel and I already agreed we’re taking him home. Tank will be happy to see his friend. I can swing by your place and grab extra food if we need to keep him longer. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>God, I love you so much. Thank you to all of that. I’m hoping Matt just gets the laparoscopic surgery, that way we can go home sooner and he’ll heal quicker. Halstead said there’s a chance it might be an open surgery because of how inflamed it is. </span>
  </em>
  <span>😭</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stella doesn’t text back, and Sylvie’s sure truck is now on a call. Yawning, she rubs her face, struck with just how tired she is. It’s been a long, emotional day, and it feels like ages ago she was on shift. Forcing herself up, she checks her pockets, happy to see she has her little card holder with her license and debit card. Ending up in the cafeteria, Sylvie grabs a smoothie and some crackers, not hungry for much else. By the time she’s made her way back after looking aimlessly in the gift shop to pass the time, she only waits seven minutes before Dr.Marcel is coming out and giving her a smile. The surgeon is newer to the hospital, but from what she’s seen of him, he seems to be nice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sylvie, nice to see you again. Or...maybe not, given the circumstances,” he jokes, and Sylvie nods, not wanting to seem rude, but not wanting to make small talk either. He must pick up on her mood, because he clears his throat. “Matt’s surgery went well. We did it laparoscopically, and there weren’t any complications. He’ll be good to return back to work in a few weeks, as long as he gets cleared of course. He’s in recovery, if you’d like to come see him, though I’ll warn you he’s still asleep.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A weight falls from Sylvie’s shoulders she hadn’t realized was even there. Matt’s fine, he’d had no complications. She’s nodding before her brain can even process everything, standing quickly. She’s led back to a large room with multiple beds, all sectioned off with hanging curtains to allow for some privacy. Marcel leaves her with him, two nurses on the opposite side of the room talking quietly, other patients in scattered beds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing quietly as he sleeps, anesthesia still lingering in his system. Sylvie sits in the plastic chair next to the bed, taking him in, beyond grateful they’d taken him in when they did. Slipping her phone out of her pocket, she snaps a quick photo and sends it to the group chat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I know you guys are out on a call saving lives and all, but here’s something for when you get back. He’s now only got 77 organs instead of 78, but still going! Waiting for the anesthesia to wear off. He should be back in commission in a few (long) weeks. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she waits for her boyfriend to wake up, she scrolls through the embarrassing number of photos she has of Beau, trying to decide how many duplicates she actually needs. She’s gone from 407 to 322 when Matt makes a noise next to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey sweetheart,” Sylvie says quietly, her hand on his arm. Matt blinks sluggishly at her, trying to gain some sense of reality. “You just got out of surgery, how’re you feeling?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes him a moment, brain obviously catching up. “Tired,” his words come out slurred and Sylvie does her best not to out right smile. Before she has a chance to say anything else, one of the nurses comes over, checking his sats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr.Casey, nice to see you’re awake. How do you feel? I can give you some morphine and nausea medication if you’d like it,” she tells him, and Sylve watches him listen and then nod. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stomach hurts….feel really bloated..” Matt admits, shifting uncomfortably. The woman nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s normal. They put air in your stomach during surgery so they can see where they’re going. It’ll feel better every day, and the feeling should be gone in three or four days completely. Your fever is going down too which is good.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt’s eyes are barely open by the time the woman leaves to go get the meds, and Sylvie kisses his forehead. “I love you, and I’m so glad you’re okay. Get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“M’kay. Love you too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>+ + +</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look who’s back!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome back to the land of the living!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn</span>
  </em>
  <span> Captain, you look like you lost twenty pounds, we’re going to have to get you back in shape!!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt laughs and pushes his hair out of his eyes before shoving his hands in his pockets. It’s been a long, boring three weeks of doing nothing. Until four days ago, the man hadn’t been allowed to lift more than ten pounds. Cruz isn’t lying when he says it looks like the Captain’s lost weight. His appetite hasn’t been as big since the surgery, even now, eating more than half of what he used to fills him up. The doctor he’d been referred to had assured it would go back to normal, some people just experience after effects for a longer duration of time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, let him be guys, Boden needs to see him anyway,” Severide walks up, punching Matt on the arm gently. “Welcome back bud.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matt laughs, shaking his head. “You act like you haven’t seen me since I left. I literally saw you last night.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah well...it’s good to have you back in the firehouse. Isn’t the same with that super model of a Lieutenant from 55 in your spot.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They make their way to Boden’s office slowly when Matt freezes and narrows his eyes. “Wait a minute...are you saying he’s more attractive than me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Severide busts out laughing. “No, I’m just saying the guy looks like something out of a Disney movie, is all. You’re….you’re good looking Case, don’t worry. Not like you even need to worry, you got Brett.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice save,” Matt huffs good naturedly, rolling his eyes without any heat. “I’ll catch you after I talk to Boden. That is, as long as you haven't abandoned me for Lieutenant Handsome!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God it’s good to be back. </span>
</p>
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